It’s the only logical explanation for the way the last two Mondays have rolled.
Two weeks ago, we tried bowling for the first time all summer.
It was a roaring success! Sort of. The person I’d hoped to meet up with there couldn’t make it. That’s cool. I hadn’t let her know in advance, so it was my bad.
Simon had an awesome time bowling, didn’t want to stop until we’d managed all three of our games that had been included with our summer pass, and didn’t need juice or cookies to help him make it through. Awesomeness.
When we went to get ready and leave, it turned out that his handy dandy notebook, something that he can’t live without, had gone missing. Where, I don’t know. When, I don’t know. All I knew (and he knew) was that it had vanished.
My plans of hitting Starbucks and a thrift store on the way home also vanished. I knew we wouldn’t be able to do anything until we got a new notebook, which was sitting in the closet at home.
Cue a hurried drive home. Grabbing the notebook. Much rejoicing!
One week ago, we tried it for the second time.
I knew in advance that the person I’d wanted to see there wouldn’t make it, but that was okay – two other people (that I’d never met before) and their kids would be there. Massive panic attack. New people! New people! Alert! Alert! I almost didn’t go, but then I pushed through. It would be okay. Simon wanted to go, and I couldn’t let my anxiety get in the way of that. Right?
We went. The new people were cool. Simon had a great time, even if he did start getting distracted a bit during the second and third game. Anytime I asked him if he wanted to leave or keep bowling, though, he went and got a ball and bowled. Nice.
The weather was a bit crazy. It had just been raining when we got there, but about mid-way through our time, the guy on the PA system announced something about tornadoes and power going out and having to go to the bathroom to hide. Not that that bothered my anxiety. Nope. Not at all. Okay, let’s be honest. It powered the shit outta my anxiety. I soldiered on.
When we went to get ready and leave, no problems. Said good-bye. Swapped shoes. Went outside to find out that it had turned into a gentle drizzle. All good. Whew.
This time, we made it all the way to the car before the curse reared its ugly head. I started the car, settled in, heard the ding. It’s been dinging for weeks now, telling me to get it an oil change. I tell it to shut up. This time it wasn’t only telling me to get an oil change. This time, a new light came on. The light that tells me that one of the tires was low.
Did that mean I had a flat? I hadn’t noticed it when I got in. I drove out of the parking lot slowly. Didn’t notice anything. I knew there was a tire with low air, though, and I knew that if it was low enough for the car to notice, it needed to be fixed.
I went into the first gas station I saw that had a sign for air. It wanted $1.50 in quarters. Quarters that I didn’t have.
I went into the second gas station I saw that had a sign for air. It also wanted $1.50, but it took credit cards. Hallelujah! I got out, swiped my car, and waited for the air to turn on. I wanted a really long time before I realized that the air wasn’t working.
Again, I’d been hoping to stop off at Starbucks. This time, I stopped. What was the worst that would happen? I’d blow a tire in the drive thru and block everyone? I could live with that. I needed that coffee.
I drove home slowly, annoying other drivers around me. We made it home safe, and I figured we’d put some air in the tire later. (Which turned out to be another long story involving a missing tire gauge and unsuccessfully guessing which tire needed air and how much.)
Now it’s almost time for bowling again.
I’m planning on going.
Let’s hope that curse is finished with us.